Cookie disappointment

After spending my Sunday afternoon reading the newspaper and editing, I had grown restless and was overcome with a strange urge to bake cookies. I had no reason to bake cookies. And, more importantly, there would be no way I could eat two dozen cookies. But, I baked away anyhow, needing to do something other than look at my computer screen.

I measured and mixed away, making chocolate and butterscotch chip cookies because that was what I had in the pantry. And, when it was all done, the cookies weren't as good as the ones from a few weeks before, when I baked for Manoella. They were too sweet and not as soft and chewy this time. Very disappointing.

So, I packed some in a Tupperware container, rang Ralph's doorbell, and asked if he wanted some. Scott had one too. Just 14 more cookies to go.

Curry test run #2

I’m getting closer at finding a lamb curry winner. Tonight was the second trial run in my quest to win the Lamb Curry Off and, quite possibly, the start of Curry Thursdays. And, this curry, unlike the last one I made, tasted like Indian curry.

Once again, it was a pretty straightforward recipe, as I’m starting to believe that most curry recipes are. It started by cleaning out my coffee grinder so that I could use it as a spice grinder. In it, I ground up some dried red chilies, black peppercorns, cumin seeds, fennel seeds, poppy seeds, paprika, cinnamon, coriander, and cloves. The ground spices then got moved to the blender where I also added garlic cloves, fresh ginger, dry coconut, and some water, and turned that into a smooth paste. I browned two onions, diced up, in some oil. Then, I scooped in the spice paste and cooked that for about 15 minutes. After, went in the cubes of lamb for about five minute and chopped tomatoes for another five. Finally, I poured in some water and let it all simmer for about an hour. And, when it had finally thickened up (it had looked very soupy and I added some more dry coconut to it at the end, which ended up added an unappealing little bit of textural bite to the curry), I poured in a little bit of coconut milk.

Eleanor had come over to help with the tasting and eating of the pot full of curry, and Scott had invited one of his work friends. They all mmm’ed and scooped up spoonfuls of rice and curry. Eleanor said it tasted like Indian food. And, it was spicy enough to make me sweat but not cry.

I smell a possible winner.

Vietnamese homecoming lunch

It used to be that every time I would go home to LA, I would make a ritual homecoming jaunt to the local In-N-Out. I would go from the airport to the In-N-Out and then home to my parent’s house; I was that slightly obsessive. But, that was back in the day when In-N-Outs were a rare breed anywhere outside of Southern California and back when I didn’t work just a few blocks away from one. Now, In-N-Out has been replaced by Vietnamese food of all sorts--banh mi sandwiches stuffed with questionable pork products, big bowls of pho, vermicelli noodles with mung bean sprouts and a salty, lemony sauce, spring rolls filled with shrimp, lettuce, and mint. I love it all. So, during this visit to my parent’s place, I hand not just one, but two Vietnamese lunches.

Friday Lunch
The first stop Jeanne and I made when we got back to the city where we grew up was not at our parent’s house to say hello to them or to drop off our stuff, but to the Vietnamese restaurant next to the In-N-Out on Mission Drive and Rosemead Blvd. across from the high school where we spent four years of our lives. It was already past one in the afternoon, and she and I were starving (those faux cupcakes baked in a Madeline mold eaten during the drive did nothing to satiate my stomach).

We were promptly seated and started to flip through the pages of the laminated color menu with pictures. I knew what I wanted by sight alone—there was no need for words when a color photo of the food I was about to order could do the job. I ordered the vermicelli noodles with pork, fried shrimp rolls, and shrimp paste, and a preserved plum drink. Jeanne ordered the bum boa hua, a spicy noodle soup with beef, pig’s feet, and pork blood, and the lemon juice with soda water. We also ordered the fried shrimp rolls along with the shrimp spring rolls.

We were set. We just had to wait for it to come. And, just as quickly as the waiter swooped away with our order, he came back with a plate of fried shrimp rolls and another plate mounded with lettuce leaves, mint leaves, and cilantro. I was in awe. We dug in—wrapped our lettuce leaf with the fried shrimp roll, mint, and cilantro, and dunked it into the gelatinous orange-colored sauce. It was crispy, salty, spicy (from the chili sauce we mixed into the orange-colored one), and refreshing. It was perfectly what I had craved for months.

Next, came our big bowls of noodles. Jeanne’s was pouring with steam from the dark soup. And, mine was cool and composed, with each corner of the bowl sectioned off for pork, shrimp patty, shrimp rolls, or greenery. I put some chili into my lemony sauce, spooned it onto my noodles, mixed it up, and put chopsticks to mouth. The pork meatballs were garlicy and good. The shrimp paste was tender and salty. And the fried shrimp rolls were crisp. None of the meat products actually tasted like the meat they were made from (the other flavors and textures were so pronounced as to sort of mask the natural flavors of the meat) but that was okay; I had no problem that my pork meatball tasted more like garlic than pork or that it was shaped more like a flat log than a ball. The whole bowl of noodles was a well-working combination of salty, spicy, and sour, crispy and chewy, and pungent and refreshing. I ate it all up.

Jeanne’s noodles were good too. It’s what she always ordered from this restaurant. And, her bowl of noodle soup had the same blend and balance of flavors as mine. The saltiness of the broth worked with the slight spicy flavors which sought a balance with the squeeze of lime added at the end. Each taste sensation could be distinguished from the others without being overbearing.

Our spring rolls were wonderful, as always. The spring rolls here are different from any that I’ve had elsewhere, and mainly for the fact that these are also stuffed with the fried shrimp rolls. So, there’s an extra bit of crunch. They also come with the gelatinous orange-colored sauce, which I have yet to figure out of what it is made. And, they’re skillfully wrapped, so that the thin rice-paper wrapper is tight enough to keep all the noodles, sprouts, and lettuce in one neat package while being eaten.

I washed all that food down my preserved plum drink, which is a slightly bizarre combination of preserved plum, soda water, and sugar. It’s salty, a little sour, and only hints at sweetness, but it’s refreshing and works as a palate cleanser. Delicious.

Saturday Lunch
Jeanne and I had plans for lunch again. We would go to the little Asian restaurant and order chicken with rice and crispy fried noodles topped with stir-fried vegetables and seafood (something I had forgotten that I used to adore eating). We had driven over to the place, parked the car, and were walking toward the restaurant when Jeanne’s phone vibrated. It was our dad. He said that our cousin was at our house, that he wanted to take us out to lunch, and that we should come home. Jeanne and I were only steps away from the restaurant, but we turned around, got back in the car, and drove back home.

Once at home, the four of us (Jeanne, Dad, our cousin, and I) got into our dad’s van and headed off for another Asian restaurant for lunch. Our cousin was sick so he didn’t want to eat fried noodles, as Jeanne and I were hoping he would, but wanted something soothing, so we went to get Vietnamese noodles, again. We went to Pho Pastuer, a Vietnamese restaurant that took over the space where the Round Table Pizza (the place where I spent many afternoons after school as a middle school student) once stood.

None of us had to look at the menu. We all knew what we wanted, the special combination pho noodles, or, what may be more commonly known as Number One. We also asked for an order of the pork spring rolls and one of the shrimp ones. Our noodles came out quickly since, as our dad mentioned, everything was already made and the workers merely had to pour soup of noodles.

The bowl of noodles was huge, with pieces of pink meat floating on top. I poked at them with my chopsticks and pushed them into the hot soup to cook. I tore up pieces of mint and put that into my bowl along with mung bean sprouts, a squeeze of lime, and a squirt of chili sauce. I stuck my face into that bowl, slurping up noodles and drinking up soup. The noodles were thin and chewy but soft, and the soup was strongly flavored of beef without being too salty or too heavy. And, there was a lot of meat in my bowl, so much that I didn’t think I could eat it all (but I did).

The spring rolls were good too, although of a different variety than the ones before. These were more quotidian, the kind you’d find at almost any Vietnamese place. The shrimp one came with the standard peanut sauce, and the pork one with the salty, lemony sauce.

As we sat there finishing up the last bits of our food, I remembered one of the last times I had lunch in LA only just a few months earlier. I was with my cousin, my dad, Jeanne, and Karen. They had argued over which Vietnamese restaurant was better as I said I didn’t care where we went since I knew nothing of the restaurants in LA, and we drove to a few of them before we finally settled on a place to eat. Our dad taught us how to count in Vietnamese and how to order by number in Vietnamese. And, this time, watching my dad order his food in Vietnamese as I was left confused in his conversation with the waitress, I was glad we were having lunch at this place that was once a Round Table Pizza. My dad would never have lunch with us at In-N-Out but he would gladly oblige to have lunch here (he even changed his shirt before we left the house).

Pinkberry

After our sushi meal, we walked over to Pinkberry, a new frozen yogurt chain that’s popping up all over Southern California. When Jeanne first told me about it, it didn’t sound too impressive. There are frozen yogurt places everywhere, so why would this one be worth a visit? And, frozen yogurt was so early nineties. I had my doubts. But, Jeanne assured me that it wasn’t that kind of frozen yogurt, nothing reminiscent of college dining hall soft-serve. That this was actually frozen yogurt, which tasted tangy like the yogurt that comes out of a carton. Upon hearing this, I was intrigued, especially after hearing about the delicate yogurt sorbet of a similar sort that the Greek restaurant Kokkari in San Francisco makes.

We made it over to Pinkberry, and there was a line out the door. It sure was popular. We played with the gadgets along the wall as we made it up towards to the counter. Jeanne ordered one medium-sized cup of yogurt with kiwi, mango, and strawberry toppings. The white yogurt was extracted from the frozen yogurt machine, which looked very much like those I saw back in my dorm-dining days, and the worker spooned on our fruit.

We took our seats at one of the tables with trendy but uncomfortable-looking chairs. The yogurt looked like any other sort of frozen yogurt / soft-serve food. It looked like what comes out of the Dairy Queen machines, what comes out of the machines at McDonald’s, and the stuff that comes out of those ubiquitous machines in college dining hall cafeterias. But, looks can be deceiving, and when I took a spoonful off the tip of the yogurt it tasted like nothing that comes out of those machines. This creamy white yogurt tasted like yogurt, tangy and slightly sweet, but colder. It was refreshing and fruit trio that Jeanne had chosen added a nice touch of juicy tartness. The yogurt and fruit was delicious and smooth and sweet and altogether perfect. And, Jeanne also mentioned that it’s fat free and good for you. I was in yogurt heaven.

Hide sushi

Jeanne took me to Hide, a sushi restaurant on Sawtelle in mini-Japantown only a few blocks away from her apartment. We were finally getting hungry, two hours after we had originally intended on eating dinner, and drove the six blocks to the restaurant. The sweet Japanese hostess sat us immediately, after we had already missed our name being called. She put us next to the door and next to a couple who were very obviously on their first date.

Jeanne and I perused the menu, and place our order with another very sweet Japanese woman. We wanted the tempura vegetables, the albacore and yellowtail sashimi, the unagi, the salmon, the fish roe roll, the tuna roll, the spicy salmon skin, one bowl of miso soup, and two bottles of Asahi.

All the food that came out was delicious. The yellowtail and, in particular, the albacore sashimi were splendid, fresh and buttery and soft. The tempura batter for the vegetables was crisp and light, and was overall very good (although I refrained from the green bell pepper tempura due to my dislike of bell peppers, green ones in particular). The fish roe roll was a little weird, mainly because of the texture of the very tiny fish eggs, though not bad. The salmon skin was interesting as it had quite a bit of crunch and a nice fried flavor. And, the unagi, was fantastic—tender, salty, a taste of toastiness, richly textured on the tongue; I could’ve eaten nothing but unagi and had been satisfied.

Throughout the meal, Jeanne and I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of the couple next to us, which felt so awkward. We wondered and questioned in Cantonese whether all first dates are all that lame, and I was slightly enraged when the couple questioned why anyone would chose to live in San Francisco since they didn’t see any appealing qualities of the city. Jeanne and I left before the couple did, so we don’t know how their date ended. But, they both seemed equally boring, so perhaps a good match.

College eating tour--revisited

I've eaten at a lot of college campuses over the past year and a half. I guess it comes with the territory of my line of work. This week, as I traveled with a group of 38 high school students and several co-workers, I added five more college visits to my list, eating at three of them (as well as at some other places that I'm not too proud of).

Monday
We had an early morning, leaving San Francisco at 7AM to be in San Luis Obispo to visit the California State University there at 11AM. We all had an Odwalla juice along with an Odwalla bar for breakfast, courtesy of the parent of one of our students who works for the company. Billy offered all the staff vitamin C and echinacea tablets, which we all gladly accepted.

Our drive along the 101 brought us through green fields and rolling hills, with the Pacific Ocean along our right-hand side. It also brought us to our first rest-stop, with a McDoald's, Starbucks, donut shop, and all the other requisite rest-stop eateries. I was hungry already and knew that there was no way that juice and breakfast bar would last me until one o'clock, when we had lunch scheduled. So, I dashed off to the Starbucks to use their restroom and ordered a latte. Allison, Billy, and I then walked across the parking lot to McDonald's, where I ordered a Sausage Egg McMuffin.

I can't remember the last time I'd eaten a breakfast sandwich from McDonald's, although I thoroughly recall the last time I ate at McDonald's and was disgusted by the taste of their oil coating my tongue and mouth, being sure to never eat at McDonald's again (something that I do very, very rarely to begin with). But, I was hungry, lunch was hours and hours away, and I wanted something salty. McDonald's was my only choice. And, Billy urged me on to order the sandwich. So, with all that pressure and an empty stomach, I ordered my sandwich. Two seconds later, it appeared on the counter. I ate that sucker on the bus, and it wasn't too bad. Sure, grease coated the paper wrapper and, sure, I knew how bad that so-called food would be for me, but it was salty, warm, and hit the right spot in my stomach. I followed that with a handful of pretzel and cheese Combos from Billy, and a small stack of sour cream and onion Pringles from one of the students. What was I doing?

We made it to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo safely. And, after a tour and a presentation by the an outreach staff there, it was time for lunch on campus. I followed a group over to the Chick-Fil-A and ordered a chicken club sandwich and some fries. The sandwich was okay, although a little salty and the chicken had a strangely too-soft texture, and the fries could have been more crispy. I was not impressed. Although, after hearing what everyone else had and reading the evaluations, I may have chosen the best food option that Cal Poly SLO had to offer. So, overall for SLO, the campus was nice, the food wasn't.

We got back on the bus to make the final leg of the journey down to El Segundo, where we would be staying for the next several nights. I was exhausted, as was everyone else, but I had volunteered to go pick up our dinner at the El Pollo Loco. That was an adventure. David, our very kind bus driver, had offered to drive Martha and me to pick up our food, so that we would save on cab fare. The three of us go into that 56-passenger bus and made our way through the streets of El Segundo and Manhattan Beach, trying to find the El Pollo Loco that had our food. The first El Pollo Loco, the one which the hotel staff had directed us to, was not the one. The second one, up the street and a 45-minute drive with confusing directions from an El Pollo Loco staff away, was. We made a couple very large U-turns, pulled into a McDonald's to ask for directions, made a few phone calls asking the whereabouts of this Crazy Chicken, and got a little tour of El Segundo, which had developed into quite a city of strip malls since the last time I had been there, only one year ago.

David asked us if the chicken was really that good to warrant the hour-long journey it took us to get the food. It wasn't, but I was hungry and tired and would have eaten anything. The hotel staff was nice enough to bake cookies (although probably from frozen cookie batter) for us for dessert. That was nice.

Day One done.

For the love of lox

I had eyed that Noah’s Bagels as the bus turned the corner into our hotel parking lot the first night we arrived in El Segundo. There it was, across the street from where we would be staying, luring me to get a bagel with lox and cream cheese everyday for breakfast. But I couldn’t. I had to do breakfast duty with the kids. Or, I was too tired to get up early enough to make my way across the street and back in time for departure. So, Noah’s had to wait. And, so did I.

But, finally, on the last day in El Segundo with all the kids safely on the bus and driving back to San Francisco and with me staying behind with Jeanne to come to pick me up, I would have my bagel breakfast. I told Jeanne of my breakfast plan and how I had thought about it for days and dreamt about it for nights, and she was all aboard.

She came to the hotel to get me, we drove across the street, and we stepped into that Noah’s Bagel. I couldn’t see so Jeanne had to read the menu board for me (my eyes had gone all blurry on me, everything was in doubles, and I was slightly nervous). We thought we wanted the lox schmear until we heard the man who had actually cut in front of us in line order a lox sandwich. I wanted that instead: a toasted Everything bagel with cream cheese, lox, tomatoes, onions, and capers; it was perfection in sandwich form.

Our bagels came with pickles and a choice of salad (we chose fruit), which I thought was odd but I ate them anyhow (the pickle first). I rearranged the toppings of my bagel and re-spread the cream cheese, and took a huge bite. It felt like I was now, finally, complete, that that bagel was what I was missing my whole life.

College eating tour--revisited

I've eaten at a lot of college campuses over the past year and a half. I guess it comes with the territory of my line of work. This week, as I traveled with a group of 38 high school students and several co-workers, I added five more college visits to my list, eating at three of them (as well as at some other places that I'm not too proud of).

Monday
We had an early morning, leaving San Francisco at 7AM to be in San Luis Obispo to visit the California State University there at 11AM. We all had an Odwalla juice along with an Odwalla bar for breakfast, courtesy of the parent of one of our students who works for the company. Billy offered all the staff vitamin C and echinacea tablets, which we all gladly accepted.

Our drive along the 101 brought us through green fields and rolling hills, with the Pacific Ocean along our right-hand side. It also brought us to our first rest-stop, with a McDonald's, Starbucks, donut shop, and all the other requisite rest-stop eateries. I was hungry already and knew that there was no way that juice and breakfast bar would last me until one o'clock, when we had lunch scheduled. So, I dashed off to the Starbucks to use their restroom and ordered a latte. Allison, Billy, and I then walked across the parking lot to McDonald's, where I ordered a Sausage Egg McMuffin.

I can't remember the last time I'd eaten a breakfast sandwich from McDonald's, although I thoroughly recall the last time I ate at McDonald's and was disgusted by the taste of their oil coating my tongue and mouth, being sure to never eat at McDonald's again (something that I do very, very rarely to begin with). But, I was hungry, lunch was hours and hours away, and I wanted something salty. McDonald's was my only choice. And, Billy urged me on to order the sandwich. So, with all that pressure and an empty stomach, I ordered my sandwich. Two seconds later, it appeared on the counter. I ate that sucker on the bus, and it wasn't too bad. Sure, grease coated the paper wrapper and, sure, I knew how bad that so-called food would be for me, but it was salty, warm, and hit the right spot in my stomach. I followed that with a handful of pretzel and cheese Combos from Billy, and a small stack of sour cream and onion Pringles from one of the students. What was I doing?

We made it to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo safely. And, after a tour and a presentation by an outreach staff there, it was time for lunch on campus. I followed a group over to the Chick-Fil-A and ordered a chicken club sandwich and some fries. The sandwich was okay, although a little salty and the chicken had a strangely too-soft texture, and the fries could have been more crispy. I was not impressed. Although, after hearing what everyone else had and reading the evaluations, I may have chosen the best food option that Cal Poly SLO had to offer. So, overall for SLO, the campus was nice, the food wasn't.

We got back on the bus to make the final leg of the journey down to El Segundo, where we would be staying for the next several nights. I was exhausted, as was everyone else, but I had volunteered to go pick up our dinner at the El Pollo Loco. That was an adventure. David, our very kind bus driver, had offered to drive Martha and me to pick up our food, so that we would save on cab fare. The three of us go into that 56-passenger bus and made our way through the streets of El Segundo and Manhattan Beach, trying to find the El Pollo Loco that had our food. The first El Pollo Loco, the one which the hotel staff had directed us to, was not the one. The second one, up the street and a 45-minute drive with confusing directions from an El Pollo Loco staff away, was. We made a couple very large U-turns, pulled into a McDonald's to ask for directions, made a few phone calls asking the whereabouts of this Crazy Chicken, and got a little tour of El Segundo, which had developed into quite a city of strip malls since the last time I had been there, only one year ago.

David asked us if the chicken was really that good to warrant the hour-long journey it took us to get the food. It wasn't, but I was hungry and tired and would have eaten anything. The hotel staff was nice enough to bake cookies (although probably from frozen cookie batter) for us for dessert. That was nice.

Day One done.

Tuesday
Day Two took us to San Diego. When we made it to the campus of UC San Diego, I noticed that there were stalls of food vendors, grilling up chicken and who knows what else. I knew where I was going to have lunch later.

We took a tour of the campus and had a presentation from a couple of UCSD students where our students got to ask them whatever questions they wanted. Then, it was time for lunch, which, undoubtedly, was something both the students and the staff all looked forward to. I went with Cindy, one of my sophomores, over to see the Tamales Ladies, and ran into a former student on my way over there. It was random that in a school with 25,000 students, I should run into one that I know. I said hi and chatted with her briefly, and anxiously made my way to find the tamales alone, as Cindy had left me.

But I found her at the tamales stall with Jesus. They were eyeing the menu and chatting with the ladies in Spanish. I envied their skills and ordered my green chile and chicken tamale in English. I took a seat on one of the cement blocks that lined the walkway, and ate my tamale in the sun. The tamale, sadly, was just okay. The masa was nice but the entire thing lacked flavor. For a green chile tamale, there was no spice. There was barely enough salt. I wanted to slather that sucker in salsa, but there was no salsa to slather it in. I missed the Tamale Lady from the Zeitgeist, and was left still hungry.

I headed back to the food stalls to see what else there was on offer. The lines had gotten more crowded and was about to pass more food, but I noticed Ken, Allison, and Nancy in line at the Thai food booth. They were just two people away from ordering, so I made a quick decision and asked Nancy to order a green chicken wrap for me. And, it was worth the wait. The wrap was stuffed with succulently juicy and well-seasoned grilled chicken, grilled zucchini, cucumber spears, and lettuce. I wondered if this wrap would be best thing I would eat throughout the trip. [It turns out that every Tuesday, UCSD hosts a farmer’s market sort of food vendor fair, which is where I got my tamale and chicken wrap--a nice little perk for UCSD students and staff.]

Our dinner in San Diego was at Dakine’s, a small Hawaiian food restaurant in Mira Mesa. Nelson, the owner, was very kind and obliging to us and our large group of high school students. Our group took up the entire restaurant, save for a four-seat table in the corner where a small family was already eating when the restaurant was inundated with our students. The small tables were already set up with plates, utensils, and food. The to-go containers were opened up for family-style eating, and were filled with macaroni salad, a tossed green salad, teriyaki chicken, grilled mahi mahi, and kalua pork with cabbage.

I’m no connoisseur of macaroni salad, but this one was pretty darn great. For someone who asks to have sandwiches with no mayonnaise and will only eat tuna salad knowing how mayonnaise-y the salad is, I ate this macaroni salad up, which is a huge feat, considering that the salad was simply a mixture of boiled macaroni noodles and mayonnaise. This one didn’t leave me feeling heavy and gross afterwards, and I was so bold to even have help myself to a second serving of the fat covered noodles.

The chicken was good too, tender, well-cooked, nicely flavored, and hinting of char. The mahi mahi was a little dry, but decent. And, the kalua pork with cabbage was a tasty combination of shredded, slowly cooked pork and thin strips of cabbage. The salad, dressed with a deliciously sweet miso dressing, was my favorite of all. I picked at the last bits of iceberg lettuce right out of the shared dish, it was that good.

We finished the meal with a cake that Martha had bought from the conveniently located bakery next door to the restaurant for one of our student’s birthday. We lit candles and sang “Happy Birthday” in that small Hawaiian restaurant for Doloris. She was so surprised. This had been the first time anyone had ever surprised her on her birthday, and she looked a little overwhelmed. Nelson helped us slice that cake into 40 small slices and we passed them out. It was a good cake from a Philipino bakery. It was a combination of chocolate and yellow cake that was soft and fresh, and had a nice, light cream frosting.

It was a nice touch to the end of our meal, which had been so easy to just have everyone come in and have food laid out and ready for us. I thanked Nelson and his family staff over and over again.

Day Two done.

Wednesday
This was our last day of visiting schools, and I was glad. I had been constantly exhausted with not being able to sleep through the night and wanted to be done. Rather than feeling invigorated by the trip and by the excitement of the students, I felt tired. So, I was counting down our hours at Pomona College and UCLA.

Our tour and presentation at Pomona College were disappointing, hardly exciting any positive reactions from the students. But, they all raved about our dining hall meal there, noting it as the best part of the college on their evaluations. Our hosts at Pomona College were generously kind enough to help arrange a free meal in one of the dining halls for our entire group, and it was funny to watch them in the dining hall. They entered the large room and sat at down at table in the corner, waiting. I didn’t know what they were waiting for, and told them that no one would be coming around to serve them. They got there food and piled on their plates were French fries, burgers, and pizza slices with a side of cookies and brownies. I was nervous; we had forgotten to tell them to take only what they would be able to eat.

For myself, I had some cheese ravioli, a slice of pineapple and ham pizza, a salad, and vanilla ice cream with toasted almonds and a small brownie. The ravioli was good, though not anything particularly special. The pizza, however, was surprisingly wonderful. It was freshly baked (you could watch it as it cooked), it wasn’t greasy, the cheese tasted like real cheese, and the crust was light and chewy and had granules of cornmeal stuck to the bottom. I was impressed. My salad was wonderful too, topped with all the salad fixings of my dreams: corn, spinach, beets, garbanzo beans, carrots, olives, broccoli, and mushrooms. It was hard to beat a free lunch that good.

After lunch, we headed out to UCLA. Once again, our tour and presentation were disappointing, but Jeanne met me and our group on campus, so I had a nice little distraction. We had dinner plans at Buca Di Beppo in Santa Monica, and Jeanne met us there for dinner. We started with the pizza margherita, which was followed by a rather lame green salad that tasted like salad tossed with water. Our fettuccine alfredo was equally bland, requiring a heavy dose of salt, pepper, and parmesan cheese. But, our chicken parmesan was too heavily salted (it had a nice crisp crust though). I ended up mixing the alfredo noodles with the extra tomato sauce from the chicken parmesan to come up with something decent tasting. We ended our meal with a huge slice of chocolate cake, which was the best part of the meal since it was something that actually tasted good.

We were done, and I was done. The next day would be a drive back to San Francisco for them, as I would remain in LA to see my family.